Giants in Catholic Social Teaching: Msgr. John Ryan on Welfare

“True Conceptions of Welfare”

We speak much about the duty of avoiding excessive attachment to and misuse of wealth, but our utterances are mostly of the nature of platitudes.  We do not often think into them any concrete meaning as to what precisely constitutes excessive attachment or misuse in the matter of food, clothing, houses, amusements, and “social” activities.  Or, when our concepts are more specific, they are generally so liberal and lax as to fit only the very few whose offences under these heads are striking, notorious, and universally condemned.  As a contribution toward more definite views and estimates, the present paper will attempt “to apply the Christian conception to the actual life of today and to indicate more precisely the content of a reasonable standard of life.”

According to the Christian teaching, man’s chief business on earth is to fit himself for the Life Beyond.  This task he fulfills by living up to the commandments of Christ and the moral law of nature.  As applying to the use of material goods and the satisfaction of material wants, the moral law may be summarized in the following sentences.  The soul, its life, and its needs are intrinsically superior to the life and needs of the body.  The intellect and the disinterested will are essentially higher faculties than the senses and the selfish will.  Hence right human life consists, not in the indefinite satisfaction of material wants, but in striving to know more and more, and to love more and more, the best that is to be known and loved, namely, God, and, in proportion to their resemblance to Him, His creatures.  It demands that man shall satisfy the cravings of his animal and lower nature only to the extent that is compatible with a reasonable attention to the things of the mind and spirit.  The senses and their demands are not on the same moral level as the reason; they are of subordinate worth and importance; they perform the function of instruments.  Whenever they are made coordinate with, or superior to, the reason, whenever they are indulged so fare as to interfere with the normal life and activity of the reason, there occur moral disorder, perversion of function, and unrighteous conduct.  Similarly, whenever the selfish encroaches upon the disinterested will – as when we satisfy our senses with goods that ought to go to the neighbor, when we indulge such passions as envy and hatred, or when we expend upon our minds the time and energy that ought to be given to family, neighbor, or country the moral order is inverted and violated.

Thus far the moral law of reason and nature.  The supernatural, the Christian moral law is frankly ascetic; not in the sense that it imposes upon all persons the Evangelical Counsels of poverty, chastity, and obedience, but in as much as it requires men to wage a continuous struggle against many of the cravings of appetite, and to deny many desires and ambitions which are dear to self.  Unless the child subordinate his will that that of his parents, his love of play to the demands of school, his desire of possession to reasonable self-discipline, his selfishness and cruelty to the just claims of his playmates, he will grow into a self-willed, passionate, and unlovable youth.  He will be the antithesis of the Christian type.  The Christian young man or young woman enters into a series of relations in which the need of self-denial is intensified and widened.  Purity demands rigid control of the desires of the flesh; temperance requires careful self-restraint in eating and drinking; justice enjoins respect for the rights and goods of others, notwithstanding the powerful, manifold, and insidious impulses that make for the violation of this precept; the law of labor forbids indulging the tendency of idleness and slothfulness; charity commands the denial of that self-satisfaction, self-comfort, and self-assertion which are incompatible with the claims of Christian brotherhood.  Christianity is ascetic in the stricter sense of the term when it urges, nay, requires men to do without many things which are in themselves lawful, in order that they may be the better able to pass by the things that are unlawful.  The words of St. Paul concerning the athlete who “refrains himself from all things” express the true Christian theory and practice.

Both the natural and the Christian laws of conduct are, consequently, opposed to the current ideals of life and welfare.  Both demand that the power to do without shall be cultivated to such a degree that the lower nature in man shall be kept in constant subjection to the higher.  Both deny that it is lawful for man to satisfy all wants indifferently or to seek the indefinite expansion and satisfaction of his material wants.

Concerning the value of material goods, the teaching of the Divine Founder of Christianity is clear and forcible.  Consider a few of his pronouncements:  “It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of heaven.”  “Woe to you rich.”  “Blessed are you poor.”  “Lay not up for yourselves treasures on earth.”  “For a man’s life consisteth not in the abundance of things that he possesseth.”  “Be not solicitous as to what you shall eat, or what you shall drink, or what you shall put on.”  “Seek ye first the kingdom of God and his justice, and all these things shall be added unto you.”  “You cannot serve God and mammon.”  “If thou wouldst be perfect, go sell what thou hast and give to the poor, and come follow me.”  The doctrine of these texts is remote, indeed, from the theory that right life consists in the ever-widening and varying of material wants, and the ever fuller and more diversified satisfaction of them.  In many places, and under many different forms, Christ insists that material possessions are unimportant for the child of God, and that those who have much wealth will find it almost impossible to get into His kingdom.

The great Fathers of the Church used strong, almost extreme language in describing the dangers of riches and denouncing the men of wealth of their time.  Many of them are so severe that they have been, incorrectly however, classified as socialists.  St. Thomas Aquinas declared that although man cannot entirely disregard the pursuit and the possession of external goods, he ought to seek them with moderation and in conformity with the demands of a simple life.  Essentially the same views have been held and taught by all the representative authorities of the Church throughout the Middle Ages and down to the present hour.  Neither Christ nor His Church has ever sanctioned the theory that right and reasonable life requires magnificent houses, furnishings, equipage, and entertainment, sumptuous food and splendid apparel, costly recreation and luxurious amusements.

Let us apply these general truths and principles to the use of material goods and the process of satisfying material wants, and with a new to more definite and particular conclusions.  To begin with, we can enclose the field of material welfare by certain upper and lower limits, within which ninety-nine of every hundred persons must have a place if they are to enjoy satisfactory conditions of Christian living.  It would seem that these conditions are lacking whenever an average-sized family in one of the larger American cities receives an annual income of less than $1,500.  When the family income falls below that amount per year, the quality and amount of food; the size, appearance, adornment, and equipment of the home; the kind of clothes; the scant provision for sickness, accidents, and old age; the lack of sufficient means for recreation, books, newspapers, charity, and religion; and the oppressively real fear of want, will subject the members of the family to severe temptations that would be unfelt, or much less keenly felt, if the income were above the figure named.  Insufficient and monotonous food increases the craving for strong drink; shabby clothes make persons ashamed to appear among their fellows, and lead to loss of self-respect, discouragement, and discontent; an unattractive home produces similar results and impels some members of the family to seek outside associations, perhaps in the saloon; lack of provision for the untoward contingencies of life fosters discouragement and discontent which are harmful to thrift and industry, and productive of irreligion and envy of the neighbor; inability to contribute to religion causes men to remain away from church, while the absence of reading matter leaves the mind barren; insufficiency of recreation is injurious to health, efficiency, and contentment.  All these evils are, indeed, relative.  They are felt by families above as well as by those below the $1,500 limit.  Nevertheless, they inflict serious, objective injury upon one hundred of the latter to one of the former.

How shall we define the upper limit of family expenditure that is compatible with decent Christian living?  The question may at first sight seem preposterous, inasmuch as reasonable life is possible at many different stages above the decent minimum.  Yet if the Christian view of life is correct, the maximum as well as the minimum ought to be susceptible of concrete statement.  If expenditures for material goods begin to be harmful as soon as the limits of moderation are passed and the satisfaction of the senses comes into conflict with the life of the spirit, those limits ought to be capable of definition in terms of goods and of money.  To deny this is implicitly to defend the theory that right life consists in the indefinite satisfaction of indefinitely expanding wants. 

In the matter of shelter the maximum for an average sized family – husband and wife and four or five children – would seem to be a house of about twelve rooms.  Obviously the mere fact that the residence contains a larger number of rooms does not constitute a serious impediment to reasonable living.  Not the quantity of housing, but its accidentals and accessories, is the important consideration.  Not the rooms in excess of twelve, but what they generally bring in their train, makes the difference.  When the limit here set down is passed, it is not accidental comfort in the legitimate sense of that term that is desired, but rather accommodations for numerous servants, facilities for elaborate social functions, and the consciousness of occupying as large or as imposing a dwelling as some neighbor or neighbors.  Such a house will usually involve adornment, furnishings, and equipment which will be distinguished more for costliness, richness, and magnificence than simply for beauty.

All these and many other ends, which assume prominence about the time that the twelve-room limit is exceeded, do create real and serious hindrances to decent Christian living.  Chief among these hindrances are:  a great waste of time, energy, thought, and money; many other demoralizing conditions that seem to be inseparable from sumptuous dwellings and the individual and social life therein fostered; the inevitable intensification of the passion of envy; the desire to outdo one’s neighbors in the splendor of material possessions and in outward show generally; a diminution of sincerity in social relations; a lessened consciousness of the reality and universality of Christian brotherhood; and, finally, immersion to such a degree in the things of matter that the higher realities of life are easily forgotten or ignored.

Satisfaction of the food want becomes excessive when the appetite is stimulated or pampered to the injury of health, and when victuals come to be prized for their capacity to please the palate rather than for their power to nourish.  These conditions are reached sooner than most person realize.  Habitually to pass by plain food, and to seek the tenderest and most delicate grades, implies a condition in which the digestive organs are being overtaxed.  Mere variety in the articles of diet, when extended beyond moderate bounds, produces the same result.  A liberal use of the accidentals, such as condiments, relishes, exquisite desserts, is likewise harmful.  Even a nice attention to the preparation and serving of the food easily produces undue and injurious stimulation of the appetite.  These physical excesses, or extravagances, are generally accompanied by evils of the moral order.  The pleasure giving aspects of diet and of eating become too prominent and are too carefully sought.  There is an excessive attention to the satisfaction of the food want which constitutes one form of the vice of gluttony.  From it follows a lessening of control over other appetites; for the power of governing the senses is a unified thing which becomes weakened as a while whenever it suffers injury in any part.  Failure to control the food appetite, for example, reduces the ability to govern the sex appetite.  Finally, the limits of reason are exceeded when the accessories of eating, as the service, the dishes, the dining room furniture, are distinguished chiefly for their costliness, richness, and magnificence.

With regard to clothing, there is excess as soon as the desire to be dressed comfortably and decently becomes less prominent than the desire for conspicuousness, richness, elaborateness, splendor.  All these are refinements, artificial complications, of the process of satisfying the clothing want.  When they come to be regularly sought after, they cause a waste of money and a deterioration of character.  There is waste of money, inasmuch as these ends are relatively – indeed, we might say, absolutely – of no importance to reasonable living.  The character suffers through the indulgence of the passion for distinction in mere possessions and the passions of pride, vanity, and envy.  It is obviously impossible to draw with precision the line which separates comfort, decency, and simply beauty from conspicuousness, richness, elaboration, splendor; but the several estimates of a carefully selected committee would probably show a fairly close agreement.

The tests of simplicity, moderation, and comparative inexpensiveness mark off the reasonable from the unreasonable in the matter of amusements and recreation.  When these conditions are present all the legitimate demands of these wants are abundantly supplied.  The spirits are refreshed, the energies are relaxed, the faculties are recreated.  When these bounds are exceeded, when amusements and recreation become elaborate, manifold, and costly, or when they are elevated to a place among the important aims of life, there occurs a perversion which is injurious both physically and morally.  Time and money are wasted, energy is expended in the feverish pursuit of new forms of amusement, satiety and disappointment increase, and the temptations to unrighteous conduct are multiplied.  Even the practice of making extensive and frequent sojourns in foreign countries, while possessing some educational advantages, consumes time and money out of all proportion to the resulting benefits.  In many cases its chief effect is to satisfy jaded curiosity, fill up heavy-hanging time, or feed the passions of vanity and conscious superiority.

The activities that are denominated “social” afford perhaps the most striking indication of the distinction between the reasonable and the meretricious in the satisfaction of material wants.  There is a certain moderate scale of social activity and entertainment in which the exercises, the dress, the refreshments, and all the other accessories, are distinguished by a certain naturalness and simplicity.  Where these conditions (which are more easily recognized than described) are verified, the usual result is a maximum of enjoyment and right human feeling.  When these limits are passed; when the chief concern is about the accessories of the entertainment rather than the promotion of kindly human intercourse and enjoyment; when the main object is to emulate the elaborateness, costliness, or magnificence of some other “function” – genuine enjoyment and kindly feeling are generally less than in the simpler conditions, while the damage to purse, health, nerves, and character is almost invariably greater.

The foregoing paragraphs may be correctly summarized in the statement that the annual expenditure for material goods in the case of the overwhelming majority of moderately sized families, ought not to exceed $10,000.  Probably the range of expenditure which would afford the best conditions of Christian life for a considerable majority of all American families lies between $3,000 and $5,000 per annum.

The attempt to state so precisely and to define so narrowly the cost of living according to the Christian rule of life will probably strike many as presumptuous, preposterous, artificial, arbitrary.  Nevertheless, if one is sincere, if one wishes to write to any serious purpose, if one intends to get beyond empty platitudes, one much make some such attempt and in some such terms.  And the writer is perfectly willing to have his estimate subjected to criticism, to criticism as definite and concrete as the estimate itself.  He is quite confident that, with very rare exceptions, $10,000 will seem ample to cover all reasonable family expenditures for material goods.  When families go beyond this figure they are satisfying wants which in the interests of the best Christian life ought to be denied.  In so far as the added amount is spent on a house, its principle effect is to increase not legitimate comfort, but pride, vanity, waste of time, and unsocial feelings of superiority.  In so far as it is expended for dress it produces the same results, and makes persons unduly attendant to and depended upon wants that are unnecessary, artificial, and fundamentally ignoble. In so far as it goes for good, it does not mean more nourishment, but some injury to health and an undue attachment to the lower or animal life.  In so far as it is exchanged for amusements, recreation, or social activities, the same and other vices are fostered without any counterbalancing good result. 

Where the family expends more than $10,000 for material goods, the results, except in a few cases, will be harmful to Christian life, inasmuch as the senses will be exalted to the detriment of the higher will and the reason, the altruistic qualities will be unable to obtain reasonable development in the midst of so many influences making for selfishness, and the character will grow soft, while the power to do without will grow weak.

The belief that men can live noble, religious, and intellectual lives in the presence of abundant material satisfaction, is well called by the economist, Charles Perin, “the most terrible seduction of our time.”  It counts among its adherents even the majority of Catholics.  Whether they have little or much of this satisfaction, they long for more, and are willing to run the risk of the resulting demoralization.  Nay, there are Catholics, both clerical and lay, who realize that the majority of their co-religionists whose expenditures are above the level described in these pages would be “better off” in the true, the Catholic sense of these words, below that level; yet these same Catholics rejoice when their friends reach that scale of expenditure.  So great is the power of a dominant popular fallacy!

Perhaps the strongest objection against the maximum set down here will be made on behalf of “social position.”  Larger, much larger expenditures seem to many persons to be justified and necessary in order to maintain that rank in society, that place among their fellows, that standard of living to which they have become accustomed.  To sink below this scale would be a hardship and a departure from what they and their friends have come to regard as decent living.  Now the requirements of social rank are among the legitimate needs that ought to be regularly met, for, as St. Thomas expresses it, “no one ought to live unbecomingly.”  In their discussions concerning the duties of almsgiving and of restitution, the theologians have always made definite and liberal allowance for this class of needs.  Let us remember, however, that their estimates and conclusions reflect the social conditions of the Middle Ages, when the higher conveniences and the luxuries which absorb the greater part of the expenditures of the well-to-do classes today were practically all unknown; when most of the exceptional outlay was for servants, attendants, and other accompaniments of public power; and when high social rank had its basis less in wealth than in public or quasi-public authority and functions.  Reference was for the most part to rulers, members of the nobility, and public officials.  Large concessions were made to their demands on behalf of social position, in order to safeguard their functions and influence among the people.  In other words, the chief reason was a social one; the people demanded a certain magnificence in the lives of their rulers and of the other wielders of social authority.

No such considerations can be urged in favor of the rich in a country like ours.  Neither popular welfare, nor popular sentiment, nor any sane interpretation of decent or becoming living will justify expenditures in excess of $10,000 per year.  If any serious defense of them is to be attempted, it must be based upon the assumption that any reduction of them would injure the morals or the self-respect of persons who had long been accustomed to this scale of living.  That any permanent deterioration in conduct or character would overtake any considerable fraction of those who would descend to the $10,000 level, is a supposition that may be summarily dismissed.  It is overwhelmingly probable that after a short time of adjustment to the new conditions, the “descenders” with rare exceptions, would be stronger morally than before.  The hypothetical injury to self-respect does not deserve serious consideration, inasmuch as it refers to a false self-respect, a fear of being looked down upon by those who have false standards of worth, dignity, and decency.  The self-respect which is based upon the extravagant satisfaction of material wants, and conditioned by the approval of those who believe in that sort of thing, ought to be trampled upon and eradicated.

Suppose that Mr. Carnegie, who has declared that the duty of the man of wealth is “to set an example of modest, unostentatious living, shunning display or extravagance,” were to take these words seriously, interpreting them according to their ordinary acceptation, and to move from his sumptuous Fifth Avenue mansion into a comfortable, medium-sized house in a respectable, middle-class neighborhood, there to live on a scale of simple and moderate comfort.  Does anyone think that he would suffer any real loss of self-respect, honor, reputation, public appreciation, or influence for good?  On the contrary, he would gain in all these regards.  Not the least of his gains would be his enhanced credit for seriousness and sincerity.  And his experience would be duplicated by every rich man and rich woman who would make the experiment.

Those who would take this step would be better off, not only in character and public esteem, but even as regards contentment and happiness.  At least, this would be the result of practically all who are now above the $10,000 level were to place themselves below it; for the principal factor impelling men to believe in the worth of luxurious living, namely, the social worship of luxury, would have disappeared.  It is the popular faith in the happiness-producing power of abundant material satisfaction that leads the possessor of such satisfaction to cling to it.  In reality it causes a greater slavery of the mind to the senses, and increases anxiety, worry, and satiety.  “In proportion as a man strives to exalt and secure himself through external goods, he falls back wretchedly upon himself and experiences an increase of dissatisfaction and ennui” (Perin, “De le Richesse” p. 11).

If only a few were to make the experiment, they would undoubtedly suffer considerable mental anguish, but it would only be temporary.  Besides, it would be more than offset by the increase of mental and moral freedom, by a deeper and truer self-respect, and by the genuine approval of the larger and saner part of the community.

The foregoing discussion may be profitably supplemented by a word on the social aspects of excessive living expenditures.  Beyond doubt, a scale of living in excess of the maximum limit defined in these pages renders the overwhelming majority of those who adopt it less able and less willing to make sacrifices for the public good, whether on the field of battle, in public life, or through any other form of social service.  It makes great achievements in art, science or literature morally impossible, for the simple reason that it reduces to a minimum the power to abstain, to endure, to wait patiently for large results.  Nor is this all.  For every person who lives according to this pernicious standard, there are thousands who are unable to do so, yet who adopt it as their ideal and strive to imitate it so far as they are able.  Hence these, too, suffer immeasurable hurt in their capacity for self-sacrifice, generosity, and disinterested social service.  All the lessons of history point unhesitatingly to the conclusion that social no less than individual welfare, is best promoted by moderate living.  Colonel Roosevelt stated this truth in terms that ought to be committed to memory and constantly pondered by every one of his countrymen:  “In the last analysis a healthy state can exist only when the men and women who make it lead clean, vigorous, healthy lives; when the children are so trained that they shall endeavor, not to shirk difficulties, but to overcome them, not to seek ease, but to know how to wrest triumph from toil and risk.  The man must be glad to do a man’s work, to dare and endure, and to labor; to keep himself, and to keep those dependent upon him.  The woman must be the housewife, the helpmeet of the homemaker, the wise and fearless mother of many children” (“The Strenuous Life,” p, 5).  In the opinion of the writer, there are five hundred chances to one that a family will realize these conditions much more fully below than above the $10,000 level.

A stock objection to the doctrine here defended rests on the assertion that every community needs some examples of life on a scale of material magnificence, in order to prevent the dulling and deadening effect of monotonous mediocrity.  Precisely why all the real and solid effects of variety could not be had within the limits set in this paper is not easily seen.  The satisfaction and the uplifting influence that are derived by the masses from the contemplation of palatial residences, splendid raiment and equipages, and the other public manifestations of excessive expenditure, would be vastly overtopped by the benefits that would follow the investment of this money in decent habitations for the poor, schools, hospitals, parks, playgrounds, art galleries, and public concerts.  There would also be a decrease of social hatred, envy, and discontent.  At any rate a reduction of 90% in the number of the existing instances of magnificent living would, owing to the comparative rarity of the phenomenon, increase the impression made upon the minds and imaginations of the masses.

The argument on behalf of lavish expenditures for works of art in private residences is likewise of little value.  The assistance and encouragement given to artists would be equally great if these purchases were made for the benefit of public galleries.

It must be admitted that luxurious living benefits industry insofar as it prevents an excessive accumulation of capital and increases the demand for the products of capital and industry, but the money thus spent would be doubly beneficial if it were employed in works of public and private benevolence.

No direct reference has been made in the present paper to the question of great private fortunes.  While these are a necessary condition of excessive standards of living, they are separable, at least in theory, from the latter, and present a distinct problem.  The sole object of these pages has been to define as precisely as possible the range of expenditure which is most compatible with – which, indeed, may be called normal for – Christian living.  Describing this in terms of dollars may, at first sight, seem ridiculous.  Nevertheless, those who admit the soundness of the underlying principles cannot set aside the estimate with a wave of the hand.  Possibly they will find that it is not easily overthrown by concrete argument.  Throughout the article the writer has had chiefly in mind Catholics.  For they, too, are, to a deplorable extent, under the delusion that valuable life consists in the indefinite satisfaction of material wants.  This delusion injures those who are below as well as those who are above the reasonable maximum.  The former are discontented where they ought to be well-satisfied, and envious where they ought to be thankful because of the temptations that they have escaped.  The latter frequently see their children grow weak in faith and character, while they themselves become worldly, cold, and ungenerous.  The contributions to religion, charity, or education by Catholics who live sumptuously, by all Catholics, indeed, who exceed the bounds of simple and moderate living – are, generally speaking, utterly inadequate as compared with their income.  Herein consists the inordinate attachment to wealth which is contrary to the Christian principle.  It is no longer the ridiculous passion for gold which obsessed the misers of our nursery tales; it is simply the striving for and indulgence in excessive amounts of material satisfaction.

• Msgr. John Ryan, The Church and Socialism, pp. 197-216, University Press, Washington, D.C.  As in J.F. Leibell, Readings in Ethics, 1926, p. 245-258.